


Consecration

by sordes



Series: The Temple Harlot [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Choking, Dirty Talk, Dry Orgasm, Established Relationship, First Time, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oracle AU, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 20:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14433534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes/pseuds/sordes
Summary: “Do you still trust me?” Gilgamesh asked, his voice clear and cutting through the sound of the oncoming storm.Ardyn looked to him, his hand trembling in Gilgamesh’s, and knew he would regret it for a lifetime if his voice failed him now.“I never stopped.”They were off in a flash, Gilgamesh pulled Ardyn behind him as they fled from the garden and deeper into the estate. Though surprised by the sudden flight, Ardyn gathered his robes with his free hand and kept in step with Gilgamesh, not daring to let go or fall behind. He knew where Gilgamesh was leading him—there could only be one place. And knowing that, Ardyn also knew deep down there was only one conclusion to this evening, one that made his palms sweat and his heart pound faster.Written for the Day 4 Ardyn YesCon Week prompt "Pain/Angst" / "Forbidden Love."





	Consecration

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [AccursedSpatula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accursedspatula), ever vigilant and skilled at talking me back from the ledge. 
> 
> Annnnnd we're back in pulpy Danielle Steel town. This was originally written as a part of an AU I was toying around with, one where Ardyn himself is the Oracle in his youth and gradually comes more and more to rebel against its (feminine) trappings as his friendship with, and feelings towards, Gilgamesh grow. Though in writing this my feelings towards some of the concepts raised have changed, and I likely will not pursue them as is, I figured this was worth posting anyway, if only for the railing.

Never had the journey home felt so long.

 _Home_ —the sheer fact that Ardyn looked forward to returning behind Lucis’ thick walls, to his secluded corner of his family’s estate, to the solitude and once abject loneliness, that he regarded this place as _home_ now surprised even him, though the change in heart could easily be attributed to one thing: now Gilgamesh was there waiting for him.

Though his return— _their_ return—to Lucis was hardly ideal, knowing Gilgamesh was so close was a comfort to Ardyn. They couldn’t freely intermingle, no, but just the ability to steel glances at one another, to exchange knowing looks… it wasn’t enough, not really, but it was better than being separated by hundreds of miles. Having Gilgamesh remain that steady pillar of support and stability, even if Ardyn had to keep him at arm’s length, meant the world to Ardyn. Knowing now that Gilgamesh was back at the estate had bolstered Ardyn through the day’s rite and was keeping him upright in the saddle now. If Gilgamesh could continue to show him small smiles, despite being a political prisoner in a foreign land, Ardyn could face the Gods.

Yet as much as Ardyn looked forward to his return home, he was also anxious to disappear from sight as soon as they returned to the estate. To bathe himself and change, then perhaps hopefully seek out Gilgamesh to assure him of his safe return, and then and only then, find that thick dreamless sleep that always followed a rite. The adjustment of slipping back into his old life, trading the rough but liberating clothes Ardyn had worn on the road with Gilgamesh for the fine, flowing silks, was still one both parties were getting used to, it seemed. It wasn’t so bad on a regular basis, when Ardyn resembled just a rich lordling, but in the ceremonial garb fit for a communion with the Six, he almost looked like someone entirely different. A young woman, beautiful, perhaps, but a _woman_ nonetheless.

He hadn’t been given the opportunity to speak more intimately with Gilgamesh on the subject, he didn’t even know if it was something he could speak intelligently about. Dressing the part of the Oracle had never bothered Ardyn before his foray into the greater world with Gilgamesh at his side—it was an integral part of the tradition, not something to be questioned or protested, it just _was_. But now… It perturbed Ardyn for Gilgamesh to see him dressed so. He couldn’t put his finger on why, why exactly, but it did.

Ardyn sighed deeply through his nose. Now was not the time to worry on this, not when he was so close to home. Both he and Gilgamesh were effectively under house arrest, excluding necessary jaunts like this, so there would time enough to sort things out piece by piece. It wasn’t as if either of them had other plans, after all.

As the thick, wooden gate of the estate came into view, the usual welcoming party of servants and attendants stood at the ready, heads bowed reverently at the Oracle’s approach. Ardyn returned the bow deferentially, his eyes trained down at his hands as was customary. Servants took over the reins as the procession passed through the gates, leading them to the stables. Normally this final stretch was marked by a solemn silence, as this was the very end of the Oracle’s holy rite, but the servant, a young woman somewhat new to the estate, leading one of the attendant’s horses was bubbling with the excitement of news that had not yet been relayed to the returning party.

“You’ll never believe what’s been going around today, the servant’s quarter has been absolutely abuzz,” she whispered gleefully, trying, albeit not hard, to mask her eagerness.

The attendant looked down at the servant from her horse, exhausted from the road, and sighed. “You won’t make me try and guess, now will you?” she asked in a whisper.

“Well… word is wedding bells are soon to be ringing around here,” the servant giggled.

“No—the lord is too young, surely.”

“Not the lord,” the servant smiled conspiratorially, “his bodyguard. The foreigner…” Her voice trailed off when she realized Ardyn was within earshot.

Used to the drawn out process of returning to the estate in supplication, Ardyn already had his eyes trained down to his hands on the reins of his horse. His hair mussed and tangled, it was unlikely the attendant caught the dumbstruck look smeared across his face. But Ardyn was too gripped by shock to even worry about his reaction being seen. There was only one foreigner among their numbers.

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Idle gossip—rumors, a means to pass the time, that’s all it was. Gilgamesh was—he was a political prisoner. A foreigner, a barbarian. He held no title, no lands—in no world would he make a sensible match here in Lucis. It made no sense and therefore it couldn’t be true. There was no way.

And yet—

The idea gnawed at him and Ardyn found he was utterly incapable of disregarding it. It was a fantasy, just a rumor, Ardyn was sure of this, but given his closeness to Gilgamesh he had to be absolutely and completely sure it was untrue.

The procession was slow going, even slower than normal it felt now, and Ardyn had every urge to spur his horse into action and take off to find Gilgamesh and confirm the tawdry rumor was nothing but. Ardyn worried his inner cheek to deter the impulse. Even if it were true, who was Ardyn to stand in the way of the marriage? He had no claim to Gilgamesh, and while they were… _undoubtedly close_ … they were two men. While such couples certainly existed, none were bound by marriage. Besides—Ardyn was the Oracle—marriage, intimacy, _anything_ of that nature was sacrilege. He couldn’t exactly swoop in at the last moment and demand the ceremony come to end without admitting their affair, which would certainly lead to swift and capital punishment for Gilgamesh.

But no. Ardyn had convinced himself. The wedding was gossip, a fantasy cooked up by bored servants or curious guests who had seen Gilgamesh, in all of his handsomeness, on the grounds.

So when the procession finally reached the dusty training grounds on route to the stables, and none other than Gilgamesh happened to be sparring with a few other men, it came as quite a blow when Ardyn realized Gilgamesh would not return his gaze.

Ardyn gripped his reins hard. He knew it was still an adjustment for Gilgamesh, to see him dressed in the Oracle’s mantle, and especially after a rite his appearance was quite otherworldly, but in his gut Ardyn knew Gilgamesh’s refusal to look him in the eye had a deeper implication. The idle gossip was true. Ardyn had left the safety of the city walls that morning and returned that afternoon to an ambush.

His mind was swimming with questions—how long had Gilgamesh known? Who was his betrothed? Did Gilgamesh seek this out? Did he want this? Did he wonder at all how it would make _Ardyn_ feel? What did this mean for them—their ‘relationship,’ if it could even be called that?

Ardyn had half the mind to cut through the training field and confront Gilgamesh then and there, to let the adrenaline carry him and demand the truth. Though as one of the attendants helped Ardyn down from his horse and led him with a steady hand on his shoulder out from the stables and into the estate, that coursing adrenaline dissolved and was replaced with nausea swirling inside him.  

Ardyn felt like he was spinning, the revelation hitting him all at once. Circumstances be damned, if Gilgamesh was getting married that was it, the end of whatever it was between them. It wasn’t just a whirlwind romance, it was implicit trust and understanding between them, that was crashing down around him and Ardyn found himself walking faster toward his chambers, breaking away from his retinue. He was desperate to change out of his feminine attire, to scour himself clean, and wipe away the deep feelings of betrayal that had suddenly taken root in his body.

\---

Black really was his color.

Ardyn had avoided Gilgamesh with great success since the marriage plans were made known. The official announcement had followed soon after Ardyn’s painful premature discovery of it, and the arrangements kicked up thereafter. Gilgamesh’s bride to be was from a lower noble house, her family name one Ardyn recognized, and though he had likely crossed paths with her at one point or another, he was unable to recall her face or any tangible details surrounding her. In his mind she was a grey blob, fuzzy around the edges, more existential dread than a solid person with wants and feelings of her own. He didn’t view her as an obstacle to overcome, rather a stark inevitability.

It had taken a few days for Ardyn to recover from his initial shock and heartbreak. In time, Ardyn came to realize that Gilgamesh was not a willing party in the marriage, it was something he was being forced or coerced into, but even so that knowledge did little to soothe him. Were they still traveling together, things would have been different. Without such constraints of Ardyn’s position or Gilgamesh’s status as a prisoner they could have talked it out, Gilgamesh could have explained, or at least tried to.

Ardyn made no attempt to seek Gilgamesh out and demand an explanation. No, Ardyn found he didn’t want to be seen by Gilgamesh now in the trappings of his station, meek and impassive, so different from the person he was in Gilgamesh’s company away from Lucis.

But the estate both called home now was only so big and crossing paths was inevitable.

Ardyn’s gaze couldn’t help but be drawn to the commotion in one of the pavilions as he passed it one day as he cut through the estate. Gilgamesh was in the middle of it, a number of tailors and a seamstress fussing around him, fitting him in his wedding garb. It was in the Lucian style—a long, black silk robe, tight fitted to Gilgamesh’s body, high slits on either side at his hips, revealing the looser fitted cream pants he wore underneath. A cream sash was tied around his waist, accentuating it, the fabric tied into a simple knot and one long end draped over Gilgamesh’s shoulder. The tailors tugged at the high collar and sleeves as the seamstress worked on the bottom hem of the robe, all oblivious as to how irritated Gilgamesh looked, no doubt made to stand still and model the garment for far too long already.

Despite Gilgamesh’s obvious displeasure, the sight of Gilgamesh looking every bit the handsome groom made Ardyn stop dead in his tracks. Though there was no changing his olive skin and dark, wild hair, but if Ardyn hadn’t known any better he might have mistaken Gilgamesh for a Lucian dressed like that. Some rebellious eldest son being pushed to finally straighten out and settle down, though every inch of him radiated that same defiant energy and desire for freedom.

Ardyn blinked, snapping himself out of his reverie. It wasn’t right to stare, and he wanted to move on quickly before Gilgamesh noticed him, but really by that point it was too late.

Gilgamesh opened his mouth to call out his name but stopped, thankfully, remembering that using Ardyn’s real name was taboo here amongst others. Ardyn quickly looked away and scurried off, but much to his chagrin, he could hear Gilgamesh extracting himself from the tailors, making to give chase. Panicked, Ardyn picked up his pace and ducked down a shady corridor, stone pillars lining one side and an ivy covered trellis on the other. If he could just put more distance between himself and Gilgamesh, get somewhere where there were other people—

“Wait!” Gilgamesh rounded the corner and jogged after Ardyn, rapidly closing the distance between them.

Ardyn didn’t look back, he kept moving, pretending, though futilely, that he hadn’t heard Gilgamesh. But he was too slow to escape. Gilgamesh caught up a second later and grabbed Ardyn’s arm to keep him from fleeing.

“Ardyn, will you wait a second?” Though his intonation posed a question, the way Gilgamesh gripped Ardyn’s arm made it clear this was anything but.

Ardyn spun around on his toes, yanking his arm free. Though Gilgamesh had pursued him into a secluded area of the garden, there was no telling who could be watching. “You can’t touch me here,” Ardyn snapped. “You can’t forget your place.”

Gilgamesh looked as if Ardyn just slapped him, stunned, taken aback. He crossed his arms defensively, and Ardyn felt his cheeks go hot with shame for losing his temper. “Ten lashes is the punishment,” Ardyn said softly, his eyes flitting to Gilgamesh’s feet. “You have to be more careful.”

Gilgamesh nodded, his arms loosened in front of his chest. “I just want to talk,” he said. “It’s been weeks since we’ve had the chance.”

Ardyn could feel Gilgamesh’s eyes wandering up and down his body. The sight of him in white, the flowing feminine robes of the Oracle, was still an adjustment, Ardyn thought, given the dusty and threadbare masculine traveling clothes he had always worn previously in Gilgamesh’s company. It made Ardyn’s insides twist for Gilgamesh to see him as this ‘other’ now—to see him for who he really was. Though there was something deeper than that, too. All that time away from Lucis, traveling and fighting and not being under lock and key, had awakened something inside of Ardyn, and now the feather light silks he had always known felt like iron weights on his shoulders. Ardyn had never questioned being the Oracle, and everything that the title came with, but now, under Gilgamesh’s gaze, it all felt like a lie.

“Can you not stare?” Ardyn asked, finally. “Please.”

Gilgamesh cleared his throat and turned, as if he were suddenly very interested in the trellis. They were silent for a short time, both working up the courage to mention the elephant in the room. Ardyn could hear voices from passersby in the garden adjacent to them. He was afraid of detection, but should someone find them, Ardyn could extricate himself from the situation. He had no reason to be so on edge; they’d done nothing wrong. Yet Ardyn as smoothed his sweaty palms down over his thighs for what felt like the twentieth time, he knew he was only kidding himself. He wasn’t anxious out of a fear of getting caught, no, rather, this was the lingering fear that Gilgamesh was about to break his heart again. He had every reason to be on edge.

Gilgamesh turned, a frankness in his eyes now. “I wanted to tell you myself. About, well. I should have told you. The announcement took me by surprise as much as it did you, I think.”

The admission stung. Gilgamesh had been in talks about the arrangement? For how long? Though Ardyn knew it was pointless, a part of him, albeit small, still clung to the idea that the whole story was idle gossip. But now that Gilgamesh had stated it so plainly, it was no longer something to be denied or reasoned. It just _was_.

“Is this the part where I offer my congratulations?”

“It’s a sham. You do know that, right?”

Ardyn shrugged. _Did it really matter?_

“Well it is.” Gilgamesh took a step closer. “It’s not something I wanted. I still don’t.”

Ardyn could hear the sincerity in his voice and for the briefest moment could put himself in Gilgamesh’s shoes. He knew well enough what it was like to have decisions— _life-changing decisions_ —made on his behalf, how being that tightly controlled could make him feel like he was spiraling. But the moment passed and all of that empathy dried up on Ardyn’s tongue. Marriage? That was different. Marriage meant the end of this—whatever ‘this’ was. The marriage, sham or not, affected them both, and the admission that Gilgamesh had known it was in the realm of possibility and not warned him only worsened things.

“But it’s happening.”

Gilgamesh sighed. “Yes.”

“Well, I suppose that’s it, then.”

“Ardyn. Do you really think this would keep me from you?”

Ardyn laughed, incredulous. “What are you implying? We just, what? Carry on? Despite the wedding band on your finger?”

“Why not? I have no feelings for this—this stranger. It’s a political move only.”

“I know that much.”

“So don’t let it get to you, please. I know it’s not… ideal. But it’s not the end of the world. We don’t have to let it ruin things.”

“I refuse.”

“You what?”

“I refuse to be party to your lies.”

“Lies? What lies? Ardyn, listen to me. I do not want to marry this woman, but I’m not exactly in charge of my destiny here amongst _your_ people. I wanted to talk to you sooner, to—”

“To ask me to be your mistress. Essentially.”

“Ardyn.”

“That’s what you’re asking me to do.”

“I’m merely saying we don’t have to let _this_ get between us. I’m offering us a way forward through something neither of us want.”

Ardyn wanted nothing more than to run at that moment. To turn heel and just take off, to hide himself and how he looked—vulnerable, soft, and feminine. To at the very least rip the veil from his head, to do whatever it took not to look like the bride Gilgamesh left at the altar in favor of another. “What’s the point? You have a real woman now, Gilgamesh. Or is one not enough?”

Gilgamesh’s mouth drew into a thin line, his jaw so tight Ardyn feared he might crack a tooth. “Is your opinion of me really that low?” Ardyn opened his mouth to reply, but Gilgamesh barreled on. “No, let me finish. Why do you really think I’m suggesting this? So I can fuck you in maybe three years, at the rate we’re going? Do you really think that’s all there is in this for me? That’s all I want?”

Ardyn held his gaze for an impossibly long minute before his eyes darted away, his cheeks blazing hot. “I’ll take no part in this.”

“Stop sidestepping the question and answer me. Do you really think that little of me?”

In a flash Ardyn planted his feet, his hands drew into fists so tight his nails threatened to draw blood. “No—how dare _you_ ask me to stand by—to, to what? Keep the bed warm then watch you leave and have to live with the knowledge that you’re crawling back to your wife? How dare you ask me to stand by and watch you raise a family! How dare you think I’d be _fine_ with sneaking around in the shadows!”

 _How dare you think I’d be fine with having just a piece of you? For thinking that I’d be satisfied with only that and could live with the fact that I was sharing you._ Ardyn could finally articulate why he had rejected Gilgamesh’s offer—if Ardyn couldn’t have all of him, he didn’t want any of him. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud and reveal just how selfish and petty he was beneath it all.

Gilgamesh stood stock-still, absorbing Ardyn’s words. In the beats of silence Ardyn eased his fists to loosen, straightened his back, squared his shoulders. “So you see,” he said calmly, “what you’re asking of me is impossible.”

He expected Gilgamesh to push back. To offer a counter argument, to throw Ardyn’s words back in his face, but he didn’t. Ardyn caught the shadows of some people approaching from the other side of the hedge in the corner of his eye and took a step back. It was time he took his leave.

“I wish you all the best, Gilgamesh. I truly do.” And though Ardyn did mean that, he knew his words rang hollow, but there was no saving it now. A pair of servants rounded the corner, seeing Ardyn as he turned on his heel and left in the opposite direction, leaving Gilgamesh in his wake.

\---

The two passed in and out of the other’s periphery but made no attempt to breach the gap in the weeks that followed. As always, Ardyn carried on with his duties, the religious rites, as Gilgamesh, ever at Somnus’ side came and went from the estate. Though the wedding was small, it was elaborate enough to send the estate into a flurry of activity in the days leading up to the ceremony, a constant flow of servants rushing to and fro, preparing the feast, decorating the corridors and fixing up the gardens.

Ardyn did his upmost to keep his mind off of the impending wedding, doubling, even tripling his time spent at the temples and in meditation—anything to keep himself sequestered and away from the hubbub. The Gods, however, were suspiciously quiet during this period, uninterested or unwilling to impart their wisdom on him. Ardyn took to stewing over their argument, replaying it over and over in his mind, obsessing over each word he said, the tone he used.

At night, as he lie alone in bed, Ardyn would regret the finality he invoked, his stunned reaction to Gilgamesh’s proposition and his staunch refusal. He had been so affronted by the idea, by reality crashing in on them, that accepting anything less than Gilgamesh’s undivided attention was unthinkable. But once his temper cooled and careful thought was put into the situation, Ardyn cursed himself for his petulance. They could never really have a happy ending, could they? Perhaps keeping that avenue open, no matter now unideal it seemed, was the best option.

Shame washed over him in the morning, however, when Ardyn recalled how his loneliness made his morals bend. Had he no decency? Did Gilgamesh really hold such sway over him? Ardyn was above these sorts of things, he was _supposed_ to be above this—this tawdry affair. But in the same breath, calling his relationship with Gilgamesh a ‘tawdry affair’ made Ardyn’s stomach churn. It was more than that, far more. The hurt and betrayal in Gilgamesh’s eyes when Ardyn put an end to things confirmed that.

Ardyn spent his days trying to distract himself, overanalyzing and overthinking, oscillating from regretting his decision and loathing himself to reassuring himself he made the right choice, he had acted wisely. And though Ardyn tried to hide his head in a hole in the ground, to ignore the fact that the days were passing by bringing them closer and closer to the fateful ceremony, it still came as a cold shock to realize the eve of the wedding had arrived.

Somnus had spared no expense for the lavish feast that night, inviting Lucis’ most influential nobles and wealthiest upper crust, though not for Gilgamesh’s benefit, Ardyn knew. The wedding party was set up in the largest garden the estate had to boast of, oil lamps and open braziers illuminating the open-air space, the flowers and topiaries all immaculately groomed. A number of low tables were set up, interspersed with the greenery, each one sporting a lavish spread of food and wine, and servants darted between boisterous groups refilling cups and replacing empty bottles.

Though Gilgamesh and his bride, her face concealed by a thick lace veil, sat at a place of honor at the head table, they were clearly not the center of attention—though why would they be? A savage barbarian and a lower noblewoman. Not an unwise match, given Gilgamesh’s ties to Somnus, but the occasion was clearly being used as an opportunity by Somnus to curry favor and display his power.

Ardyn almost felt bad for Gilgamesh, watching him seated at the head table, his back ridged, shoulders tense. His hands were curled on his knees, and he didn’t once reach for any of the plates of food spread before him throughout the course of the meal, save for a few deep gulps from his wine cup. He didn’t once look to his betrothed either, clad completely in white, seated next to him. Ardyn couldn’t stop the attraction he still felt looking at Gilgamesh, who was wearing the fine black robe the tailors had been fussing over weeks ago, though he stopped his mind from wandering further on the subject.

Ardyn had been given his own place of honor at the feast, though separate from the other guests, naturally, in a covered pavilion tucked off to the side. Clad similarly to the bride in white, Ardyn, like Gilgamesh, refrained from eating, his stomach in knots. Though he tried to distract himself from the sight of Gilgamesh lined up next to his fiancé by pondering just why Somnus had insisted he make an appearance tonight, his eyes were drawn back to Gilgamesh, his thoughts finding him no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

As the evening progressed Somnus brought a number of esteemed guests before Ardyn, Somuns’ angle became clear, as he lauded the Oracle’s healing prowess. Ardyn offered impassive, detached smiles as he worked his glowing touch over arthritic hands, a nasty case of gout, and even a broken foot, wondering all the while what the high priests would think of such a base use of the Gods’ power. But Ardyn was grateful for the distraction and for the realization that Somnus was not so petty and vindictive as to demand Ardyn’s presence at the feast merely to torment him, but rather utilitarian, to use him in his game.

Still, Ardyn performed the dance as only he could, working his small miracles one wealthy patron after the next. By the time all of Somnus’ most important guests had been tended to, Ardyn felt light headed and a heat had settled on his cheeks. Surely his brother wouldn’t object to him leaving, his duty fulfilled? Ardyn didn’t care to ask permission, the exhaustion creeping up his spine and forcing his shoulders inward. He rose with grace and though his eyes were trained on the ground, minding his step as he negotiated his flowing silks, he couldn’t help but steal one final glance at Gilgamesh before slipping out of the garden and heading back toward the main estate.

Ardyn picked up his pace as the first low rumbles of thunder sounded in the distance, a storm nearing. The wedding party would need to retreat inside at this rate. The wind seemed to pick up suddenly, blowing through the branches of the trees, and Ardyn wrapped his arms around himself to buffet himself against them. He had survived the feast, and thankfully was not going to be present during the actual wedding ceremony tomorrow—dodging a divine rite was clearly something Somnus didn’t have the power to pull, at least not _yet_. Though the finality of his last conversation with Gilgamesh was one thing, Ardyn had assured himself that once the smooth, gold wedding band was around Gilgamesh’s finger, that would truly be the end of it and he could move on. In just a day the torment of waiting for what felt like an execution would be complete. Just one single day, a collection of but a few hours.

As Ardyn made his way back to his chambers, in time he heard a set of even, heavy footfalls behind him. Instantly, despite everything, including the wind blowing all around him, Ardyn knew they belonged to Gilgamesh, though how the groom had managed to escape his own feast eluded him. His heartbeat took off in his chest, he had no desire to fight again, no desire to tear the scabs off of the wounds that were just barely starting to heal. But instead of speeding up, of taking off running to the safety of his well-guarded corner of the estate, Ardyn inexplicably slowed.

Gilgamesh kept his distance, a few paces behind, until Ardyn stopped before one of the garden’s single tiered fountains, the well-manicured corner lit up by several oil lamps. Ardyn could feel Gilgamesh watching him as he turned.

“Can we talk?” Gilgamesh’s voice was laced with hesitation, every ounce of that confidence and control from their previous argument stripped away.

Ardyn simply nodded, though he didn’t know what either of them could say to fix things now.

\---

The first drops of rain that fell were as light as pinpricks, landing haphazardly around them, foreboding the oncoming storm.

The two sat on the edge of the fountain, enough space between them that if spotted, either could extricate themselves from the intimate meeting with relative ease. Neither could look at the other, nor speak, and though there was an overwhelming sense of urgency floating between them just moments prior, here in this corner of the garden, its intensity was dulled. In a way it almost felt like time had stopped, that they were finally given the opportunity to talk things through one final time, but it seemed like more of a curse now to Ardyn. What else was there to say? Why drag things out and prolong the uncomfortableness? He shouldn’t have followed Gilgamesh over here, he should have just returned to his quarters. There was nothing that could be done, the bandage had already been ripped off—this was just exacerbating things.

Ardyn had no idea how touch-starved he really was until one of Gilgamesh’s coarse hands, the palm hot and sweaty, came to rest on his knee. The weight of it immediately put a stop to his nervous bobbing, an unfortunate tick Ardyn wasn’t even aware he had fallen prey to. He thought he could get by avoiding Gilgamesh until it was all over, thought he had steeled himself against any eleventh hour emotional turns. Ardyn thought he was ready to face Gilgamesh with his head held high, he thought he could reassume the mantle of serenity and control that his station afforded him. Though he looked every part the Oracle in his gauzy white robes, inside. Ardyn knew in that instant all his talking himself up, all his self-reassuring was for naught.

Ardyn’s eyes cascaded down to Gilgamesh’s hand and watched as he gave his knee a gentle squeeze, and in that moment Ardyn realized Gilgamesh was just as afraid of his moment as he was. Just as uncertain about the future, and just as unwilling to play the role he was forced into.

A cold gust of wind kicked up, blowing through the hedges and their wild, unchecked hair. In another place and time they could have been like any other nervous couple, just moments before taking their vows, their raw nerves and youthful anxiety mirrored by the sudden change in the weather. The wind sent Arydn’s airy white silk flying and he raised his hands to clamp it back down to his body, his fists mere inches from where Gilgamesh’s hand stayed anchored to him.

Neither could work themselves up to take the plunge. To admit that this was the end of things between them. Both too afraid seemingly to look at each other, as if it would shatter the illusion that the other was indeed there to begin with.

The wind howled in Ardyn’s ears as if taunting him. Not even in their final moments together would they be afforded quiet—quiet enough to think, to talk. It felt as if there were an impassable chasm between Gilgamesh’s hand, hot and alive, gripping his knee tightly, and Ardyn’s, ice cold, fisting his silks so hard his short nails dug into his palm. But Ardyn closed the gap, each inch feeling like miles, until his pinky brushed up against Gilgamesh’s. It was hardly an impassioned embrace, and with the wind and both of their sets of clothes blowing about, the delicate touch could easily have been missed.

But when Ardyn raised his head and turned, finding Gilgamesh looking back at him, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, Ardyn knew Gilgamesh felt every ounce of devastation behind his touch.

Just then the pinpricks of rain grew heavy, sending ripples cascading out in the fountain’s low basin and pelting both men. Gilgamesh rose and pulled Ardyn to his feet. An electric urgency ran through their hands, their desperation punctuated by the rumble of thunder, far closer than it was before. There were eyes everywhere, Ardyn’s attendants would surely be looking for him now, but none of that mattered. They had made the mistake of touching, of letting even the most grazing of touches rekindle that spark between them and just letting go, just saying goodbye now, was no longer an option.

“Do you still trust me?” Gilgamesh asked, his voice clear and cutting through the sound of the oncoming storm.

Ardyn looked to him, his hand trembling in Gilgamesh’s, and knew he would regret it for a lifetime if his voice failed him now.

“I never stopped.”

They were off in a flash, Gilgamesh pulled Ardyn behind him as they fled from the garden and deeper into the estate. Though surprised by the sudden flight, Ardyn gathered his robes with his free hand and kept in step with Gilgamesh, not daring to let go or fall behind. He knew where Gilgamesh was leading him—there could only be one place. And knowing that, Ardyn also knew deep down there was only one conclusion to this evening, one that made his palms sweat and his heart pound faster.

The old Ardyn would have surely tugged his hand free, scoffed at the impropriety, the madness of it all. He would have dug his heels into the ground and retreated, sought out the safety and comfort of his familiar chambers.

But now, though his stomach in knots with nerves and anxiety, Ardyn squeezed Gilgamesh’s hand back hard and quickened his pace so he was running alongside him. He had to see this through, he was going to see this through, to hell with the consequences. If this was all the time they had left, Ardyn would be damned if they were going to squander it.

\---

When Gilgamesh’s hand let go of Ardyn’s, their skin damp from getting caught by downpour before ducking under the eaves before Gilgamesh’s chambers, he thought he might just drift off without that solid anchor to the ground. He watched as Gilgamesh pushed open the doors to his private chambers with both arms, and swore he could see the hair standing up on the back of his neck between flashes of lightning, he was that on edge. The doors hit the walls with a _bang_ and Ardyn jumped. He could feel the intensity radiating from Gilgamesh’s tensed shoulders now and though he knew there was no way he was turning and running now, nerves made his stomach turn.

Gilgamesh stepped into the darkness of his chambers then turned, waited for Ardyn to follow. The idle thought that Gilgamesh would be bringing his wife across this very threshold a night later passed through him and faded. This wasn’t about her, this was just about them. Ardyn steeled himself, raised his chin as high as he could manage, and passed over into the dark.

Gilgamesh eyed him with a cageyness, as if he suspected Ardyn would flee if given the chance, and circled around him to the doors, giving him a wide berth. Ardyn pushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead and looked around at the spartan furnishings, wondering if he should light a lamp.

A second later Gilgamesh forced the doors shut and barred them with a fury, the wooden slat slamming into place, and Ardyn's heart jumped into his throat; the entire estate would have heard it, if not for the storm raging outside. Gilgamesh turned, his expression obscured by his hair and the shadows and Ardyn suddenly felt small and helpless before him. He was afraid—not that Gilgamesh would hurt him—but that they had passed the point of no return. They were both scrambling for purchase in the dark, clawing futilely against their respective binds of duty, but there was only so much of that either could take until they reached their breaking point. By coming here, by secluding himself with Gilgamesh, Ardyn had taken that final step off into the abyss and snapped.

Gilgamesh closed the distance between them in two swift strides and scooped Ardyn into his arms, their mouths meeting somewhere in between. Ardyn squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his legs up, wrapping them around Gilgamesh's waist, his hands tight and desperate around Gilgamesh's back. Gilgamesh's beard scoured Ardyn's chin as the kiss deepened further, but it was a welcome discomfort. He felt Gilgamesh's hands find his ass and squeeze it greedily, his own cock twitching in response, trapped between their bodies.

Without breaking the kiss, Gilgamesh moved to the bed. Ardyn was vaguely aware of the layout of the room, it differed little from his own, but he still gasped in surprise when Gilgamesh pulled back and roughly dropped him to the plush surface. He had hardly a second to react further before Gilgamesh was on him once more, pinning him down with his weight, practically smothering him with a desperation that terrified and exhilarated Ardyn.

Ardyn's legs were spread wide, the tops of Gilgamesh's thighs holding them in place, his robes a tangled mess, hiked up and on their way to ruin. Gilgamesh dragged his teeth across Ardyn's jaw and nipped his neck, softly at first then with force; he intended to leave a mark. The possessiveness of it all—as if it were _Ardyn_ getting married the following day—only made Ardyn bare his neck further. Let his tender flesh get bruised, hell, let Gilgamesh leave a scar. Ardyn could always heal it later to avoid questions, but the aftermath of everything would be tomorrow’s problem. Ardyn nudged his head forward and sought out Gilgamesh's mouth as he tangled his fingers in Gilgamesh's wild hair, smothering those fleeting thoughts with the taste of Gilgamesh’s tongue. 

Each time their cocks grazed one another, even through their layers of clothing, they moaned into the other's mouth, unabashed and hungry for more friction. Ardyn couldn't help but marvel at how far he'd fallen, how Gilgamesh had so utterly and completely changed and ruined him. There was no coming back from this, there was no forgetting the way this felt, the way Gilgamesh made him burn and melt all at once, and Ardyn almost hated him for it.

Gilgamesh pulled back all at once, panting, his eyes black with lust. The sight reminded Ardyn of a stallion, half-crazed with the need to rut, his coat shiny with sweat, every inch of him on edge and guarded. With Gilgamesh's powerful arms planted on either side of his head and under his gaze, Ardyn didn't know if he was going to tear out his throat or claim his mouth once more. The anticipation of it all sent a shiver coursing down Ardyn's spine and he squirmed without thinking. 

That was all it took to snap Gilgamesh out of his stupor.

Wildly, Gilgamesh tore at the silk and gauze ceremonial robes, shredding the delicate and precious fabric as if it were nothing. Ardyn gasped in shock—a bruise he could explain, he could heal, but shredded clothing he could not. Fitfully he tried to stop Gilgamesh, to stay his hands and shove him away, but Gilgamesh easily collected his wrists in a solid, viselike grip and held them above Ardyn's head as he continued his savagery. Still, Ardyn fought back, kicking and struggling to make his displeasure known, the airy shreds representing his title and station being cast about left and right.

"Gilgamesh!" Ardyn choked out. "Stop—I beg of you—please!"

But he did no such thing. Roughly Gilgamesh hiked up Ardyn's robes exposing his arousal—only encouraged by the turn of savagery—and gave it a firm stroke from root to tip. Ardyn choked on his tongue, his thrashing ceasing as he arched his back, thrusting his cock into Gilgamesh's fist, the contact enough to make him forget the state of his clothes.

He couldn't help but whimper, pathetic and helpless in Gilgamesh's hands, his lips red from the abuse, delicate skin scratched, robes torn open. It was complete and utter sacrilege, but as Ardyn looked up and saw Gilgamesh staring down at him with nothing short of despair in his eyes, the last emotion Ardyn felt was shame.

"Gilgamesh..."

All at once his wrists were free and Ardyn wrapped his arms around Gilgamesh's back. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, pressed silent devotions into his skin with his lips. 

"If it weren't for..." Gilgamesh trailed off, opting to bury his face in Ardyn's wild hair instead of finishing his thought. If it weren't for Ardyn being the Oracle? Gilgamesh being a prisoner of war? For Somnus? For the scourge? The Gods? Everything it seemed was conspiring against them, fighting tooth and nail to rip them apart. Maybe they should have relinquished themselves to their fates, should have let go and allowed the powers that were to have their way. But here and now they clung to each other as the storm raged around them. 

A flash of lightning splashed the room with white, the deafening clap of thunder following a few rapid heartbeats later. It was enough to focus Ardyn’s thoughts, to remind him on the fact that their time was limited—too limited.

Ardyn coaxed Gilgamesh out from his wild hair with his cheek and sought out his lips once more, one of his hands cradling the back of his head. They kissed, slow and gentle, almost like it was their first. Ardyn's heart was beating out of his chest, his palms slick with sweat in the tresses of Gilgamesh's hair. He could feel the hurried, nervous patter of Gilgamesh's heart, too, and wished with every fiber of his being that he could ease Gilgamesh's guilt. It wasn’t his fault, none of this was. For as strong and imposing Gilgamesh was, he was just as helpless when caught in the current of the powers that were.

But the sweetness of it all almost made it hurt more. It was a stinging reminder that this kind of tender intimacy was something Ardyn would never experience again. If this really were to be the end of things, the final entry in Ardyn's short book of romantic escapades, he wanted something harder, something that would leave a mark. Something that in the immediate aftermath of it all, when Ardyn inevitably left Gilgamesh's quarters alone, would soften the earth shattering blow of his loneliness.

“We could run away. We could leave everything behind,” Gilgamesh rasped as he severed the kiss, a desperation in his voice that shook Ardyn to his core. “We could be free of this if we just left. We would be leagues from here before the sun rises.”

Ardyn flinched at the idea. He’d entertained it, of course, the fantasy of abandoning his post and his responsibilities and living as himself, in the open, with Gilgamesh at his side. But Ardyn knew deep down the idea was merely that, a fantasy. He would hate himself if he went through with it, if he turned his back on the innocents that needed him. But perhaps, if Gilgamesh had made these bold statements earlier, before the Gods’ plan for Ardyn came into focus, when things were far simpler… perhaps it could have been so.

Ardyn wanted to say ‘yes.’ He wanted nothing more than to transform this despair into joy. He didn’t relish in it, in twisting the dagger in both their hearts. But Ardyn couldn’t agree to such a notion, to be relegated to a life on the run, hunted and living in the shadows, his gift—his duty—transformed into a badge of disgrace. No—they’d talked enough, wallowed more than their fair share in the unfairness of it all. Ardyn was done with words and entertaining impossibilities.

Ardyn pulled his fingers free of Gilgamesh’s tangled locks and reached between them, fumbling for Gilgamesh’s cock trapped in his pants. He wasted little time in toying with him as he roughly shoved his hands past the loose sash and under his long robe and took Gilgamesh’s hard cock into hand. Gilgamesh’s breath caught in his throat as Ardyn stroked him furiously, his head dipping and he bit Ardyn’s shoulder hard in response, grunting low in his throat.

Ardyn hissed at the pain, but instead of shirking from it, he frantically groped for one of Gilgamesh’s hands and brought it between his legs. He pressed one of Gilgamesh’s thick, calloused digits to the ring of tight muscle around his ass and felt Gilgamesh’s cock pulse in his hand, his intent clear. If this was really their last night together, Ardyn wanted it all.

Gilgamesh worked him open with a steady pressure, rubbing his hole firmly with the pad of his thumb then easing a thick finger in past the tight muscle that pushed against him, and into Ardyn’s heat. Ardyn choked and sputtered at the burn, the foreign sensation of being stretched and filled, but not for a moment did he want Gilgamesh to stop. Rather, he pulled his legs in tighter, giving Gilgamesh’s unfettered access, and squeezed the weeping tip of Gilgamesh’s cock in encouragement.

In short order one finger became two, and Gilgamesh scissored and curled them inside of Ardyn, unrelenting. Ardyn's cock danced and bounced between them, straining into the air and weeping freely. Ardyn's hand had long lost its tight, controlled rhythm on Gilgamesh's thick cock, but continued to stroke it haphazardly, faltering here and there as Gilgamesh worked him open.

Either confident Ardyn was prepared enough, or too impatient to continue on in this way, all at once Gilgamesh pulled back his hand and moved off of Ardyn, his cock slipping out of Ardyn's loosely curled fingers. Dazed, Ardyn pushed himself up as Gilgamesh sprang off the bed and flew to the bureau and shelves tucked away at the side of his chambers. Like a man possessed, Gilgamesh ripped the drawers and cabinets open, tore through their contents, shoving and flinging anything deemed not his target aside. The objects crashed against one another and the floor, startling Ardyn, the incidental flash of lightning lending a sinister air to the sight of Gilgamesh pillaging his own belongings like a common burglar in the night. Ardyn watched him through unfocused eyes, feeling empty and unhinged himself, his cock begging to be touched. He considered stimulating himself on his own, perhaps in the hopes of enticing Gilgamesh back to him, but before he could make his move the rummaging ceased.

Gilgamesh returned to the bed, a small glazed jar in hand. Ardyn opened his mouth, a question on his lips, but Gilgamesh roughly grabbed him by the shoulder and flipped him around before it could come to fruition. Ardyn scrambled to right himself on his hands and knees, his face crimson at the savagery of it all, but let himself be pushed down into the bedding by a firm hand between his shoulder blades. Not a moment later the shreds of silk were cast up and over Ardyn's raised ass, everything perfectly visible, from his slightly gaping asshole, slick with sweat and his own dribbles of precome, to his painfully hard cock dangling between his slim thighs.

Ardyn let out a muffled gasp onto the bedding and arched his back, encouraging Gilgamesh to proceed, to do whatever he saw fit to do to him. His mind blank for once, every fiber of him solely focused on Gilgamesh tearing away the restrictive silken layers imposed on him and exposing him—on being seen for nothing but the man he was, full of common desire and need.

Urgently, Gilgamesh raked a hand down Ardyn's back and over his ass, squeezing and kneading the milky skin and muscle. Meanwhile, Gilgamesh pried off the small cork stuck into the jug with his teeth and spat it off to the floor, it bouncing a few times in the dark. Ardyn's head perked up and gasped as the contents of the jar were poured onto his bare skin, a fruity and fragrant oil. Gilgamesh applied a liberal amount and smeared it around Ardyn's hole, then pressed a thick thumb in past the ring of muscle, the oil aiding the penetration greatly. Ardyn let out a hoarse moan as Gilgamesh's thumb slipped inside and remained at the very edge of the tight muscle, teasing and testing the resistance. 

Ardyn nearly drew blood from his lip he bit it so hard as he jutted his ass up, back completely arched. It wasn't enough. Obligingly, Gilgamesh sunk his thumb inside to the joint, earning a bitten-off sigh of contentment from Ardyn, who dipped his head forward, forehead meeting the mess of blankets. 

Gilgamesh growled as he violently shoved his pants down far enough with one hand to release his cock and took it into hand, stroking it firmly at the lurid sight before him. Ardyn writhed beneath him, toes curling, feet flexing at the foreign sensation, simultaneously clawing at the tangled sheets to escape the touch and bucking back into it, overwhelmed and quickly reaching sensory overload.

He nearly screamed when Gilgamesh slid two fingers in, accompanying his thumb, the stretch a mix of pain and pleasure he had never felt until now. Gilgamesh fucked him shallowly with his fingers, never quite pulling them from Ardyn's hole, rather loosening him and urging him to acclimate to the intrusion through a firm and steady pressure.

Whimpering, all inhibitions long forgotten by now, Ardyn slid his right arm beneath his torso and sought out his neglected cock, bobbing in mid-air in time with the thrusts of Gilgamesh's fingers. His tip leaking freely and making a mess of the sheets, Ardyn wrapped his hand around the shaft and pumped himself with wild abandon. He could almost come, the friction on his cock and the delicious stretch on his ass together threatened to carry him over the edge right then and there. Ardyn's thighs trembled and he let out a desperate, filthy noise as Gilgamesh shoved his fingers in particularly deep. That was all it took. 

Cock pulsing in hand, his hot finish splashed over his fingers and the bed as Ardyn sobbed through the burning waves of pleasure, the almost frightening sensations of his muscles contracting and relaxing seemingly at random, his entire body simultaneously tense and heavy and loose. Gilgamesh fucked him through the orgasm, the wet sound of skin sliding against skin a reminder that he, too, was chasing his release. 

Ardyn would have been more than happy to suck Gilgamesh off to completion, to commit every inch of his glorious cock to memory so he'd never forget it, but Gilgamesh had other plans in mind.

Gilgamesh pulled his fingers from Ardyn's used hole, and as Ardyn slumped down deeper into the mattress, Gilgamesh gripped his hip with that wet, filthy hand with iron ferocity. Before Ardyn had enough sense to realize what was about to happen, Gilgamesh had already lined himself up with Ardyn's ass, smearing his weeping tip against the stretched muscle and oil. 

Ardyn choked out a needy plea, twisting his face to the side, swiping the sweaty auburn locks out of his eyes with his finish stained hand. The plea morphed into a shattered curse as the tip of Gilgamesh's cock caught the edge of his loosened hole, then fully transformed into a snarl as Gilgamesh pushed in, finding little resistance. Both of Gilgamesh's hands were scalding brands on Ardyn's hips, his short fingernails sure to leave marks. Unrelentingly, he pushed in until he was hilted, his balls hitting Ardyn's with a dull smack. 

Ardyn's cock hung low and half-hard between his legs, bobbing with each move either made. Ardyn stretched his arms out to his sides, fisting the sheets, thrashing as Gilgamesh pumped his hips slowly, fucking him shallowly. 

Overwhelmed, Ardyn squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the sound of Gilgamesh's intermittent grunts, of skin hitting skin, the top of his thighs hitting the back of his. But the electric jolts of Gilgamesh scraping against his prostrate made maintaining some semblance of control impossible.

Gilgamesh's hands left their posts on his hips and left a hot, meandering trail up Ardyn's back to his shoulders and he began to buck faster. A cock was naturally far thicker and longer than a pair of fingers, and though Gilgamesh had done enough to stretch and prepare Ardyn to take him, the burn was still incredible. But as Gilgamesh worked up a steady, unrelenting rhythm, Ardyn found himself rocking his hips to meet each thrust, seeking out every inch Gilgamesh could give. Though untouched, his cock stiffened once more, the tip drooling wantonly, red and shiny and begging for attention.

The next thing Ardyn knew Gilgamesh's hands were clasped over his, his upper body hovering over top of him. He could feel Gilgamesh's eyes roving over his depravity, part admiring his handiwork and part congratulating himself on finally tearing down every last shred of Ardyn's propriety. Gilgamesh worked his hips in slow upward thrusts, relishing in each languid sigh and moan he arrested from Ardyn's lips. When he tired of the relaxed pace, found Ardyn's expression too angelic, perhaps, Gilgamesh snapped his hips in suddenly, earning him a broken cry.

“Say my name,” Gilgamesh ground out.

Ardyn's brow twisted, his eyes screwed shut. Speech seemed beyond him at this point; it suddenly felt as if he'd forgotten how to do anything but take Gilgamesh's cock and moan senselessly into the sweaty mess of his hair and the sheets.

Mercy seemed to be a foreign concept between them now.

In one swift motion Gilgamesh hooked his arms under Ardyn's and hoisted him up so his back was flush against Gilgamesh's chest. The new angle somehow afforded Ardyn to sink down deeper on Gilgamesh's cock and he sputtered at the renewed sense of fullness. Gilgamesh pawed at what remained of the torn come and sweat stained robes, a powerful hand coming to rest lightly around Ardyn's neck. 

“Say my name,” he repeated, the low rumble of his voice almost menacing now, pressed into Ardyn's ear.

“Please,” Ardyn moaned, “I can't—”

“Look at me.”

The fingers over Ardyn's Adam's apple tensed ever so slightly and Ardyn reluctantly opened his eyes. Gilgamesh was so close, the stubble on his chin and jaw scraping against his own ear and cheek, his eyes dark and dangerous with lust. Ardyn blinked once, twice to clear the haze from his vision and swore he saw something else in the blown-out pools of Gilgamesh's eyes. It was a pleading—not for Ardyn to submit his body further, to reach his own release. Rather, it was for Ardyn to change his mind, to abort the moral high ground, to choose him, to take him in however he could have him as opposed to not having him at all.

Ardyn screwed his eyes shut once more and turned his head away, lest he be sucked down by the undertow of unspoken emotion bubbling up inside. He had thought he resented Gilgamesh, in a way, for showing Ardyn that this side of himself existed—that he could experience intimacy and pleasure, that he could love and care for another man. But now, Ardyn realized, the truth was quite the opposite. He resented _himself_ for his selfishness, his inability both to accept Gilgamesh’s offer of an affair and to run away. Ardyn’s gut stung with the sharpness of this realization, fighting tooth and nail against himself to let it break him, to show that vulnerability now.

The renewed tightness over his Adam’s apple tugged Ardyn out of his own head. Gilgamesh had asked something of him—Ardyn wracked his brain to recall the simple command, desperate to carry on as things were. Ardyn wanted roughness, untamed lust. He wanted to lose himself in Gilgamesh, to take everything he had to give, and let that be the end of it. Ardyn wanted nothing more than to close this chapter of his life with a clean finality.

“Ardyn.”

Ardyn’s eyes opened at the sound of his name and the shiver that it sent shooting up his spine. He didn’t like to think that duplicity was in his nature, but with Gilgamesh’s hard cock still very much lodged inside of him, carrying on as if everything was fine didn’t seem like too difficult a task.

“Gilgamesh, _please_ ,” Ardyn mewled, twisting his head back to find Gilgamesh’s lips. As Ardyn drew him into the wet, sloppy kiss, he reached back and cupped Gilgamesh’s cheek to hold him in place, his other hand meanwhile dragging Gilgamesh’s to his cock. Ardyn’s breath hitched in his throat at the wet combination of Gilgamesh’s tongue sliding over his and Gilgamesh fisting his cock.

“Tell me what you want,” Gilgamesh growled into his mouth as he ground his hips into Ardyn, his cock hitting all the right places to make Ardyn writhe. When Ardyn was too slow to answer, Gilgamesh nipped at his lower lip and draped his free arm possessively around Ardyn’s chest.

“More,” Ardyn whimpered. “I just want more—”

Obligingly, Gilgamesh snapped his hips up, sending them both bouncing slightly on the mattress. Ardyn’s hands shot down to the backs of Gilgamesh’s thighs, groping them for purchase. Gilgamesh panted into Ardyn’s ear with each staccato thrust, grunting the odd foreign epithet or curse when he thrust in particularly deep. Ardyn cast his head back onto Gilgamesh’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, and tightened his hold on Gilgamesh’s thighs, his own feeling marvelously weak.

With time Ardyn sagged in Gilgamesh’s arms, his thighs quaking with each thrust, hands slipping on Gilgamesh’s thighs, his body going completely boneless. Gilgamesh paused his ministrations just long enough to ease Ardyn back down onto the bed where his upper body sunk down into the mattress. Gilgamesh’s hands found Ardyn’s hips once more and he hauled Ardyn’s ass up so that it was at a comfortable level with his groin.

The tight, controlled thrusts from before seemed long forgotten as Gilgamesh pounded away with a newfound sense of urgency. Ardyn could do little but lay there, slumped on himself, and take it, his desperate moans melding with Gilgamesh’s animalistic grunts. Gilgamesh sucked in a deep breath of air as he feverishly slammed his hips into Ardyn a final time, his hot finish filling Ardyn when he hilted himself, earning a surprised yelp from Ardyn, muffled by the mess of sheets. Gilgamesh continued to rock his hips as his balls let loose every drop of come it had to give, his palms slippery with sweat on Ardyn’s red-tinged hips. By the time Gilgamesh’s hips came to a standstill, they both were shuddering messes, dripping with sweat, seemingly every muscle in their bodies trembling from exhaustion.

Still, Ardyn’s painfully hard cock hung between his legs, begging for attention. Somehow Ardyn found the strength to push himself up onto his hands. He craned his neck back, and though Gilgamesh’s cock was gradually softening inside of him, Ardyn rocked his hips slightly, urging Gilgamesh to snap out of his stupor and do something.

“Gilgamesh,” he whined, incapable of masking the need in his voice.

Gilgamesh swallowed thickly, pulled back to the present. Idly, he kneaded Ardyn’s left asscheek, pulling and manipulating it to expose their point of joining, Ardyn’s hole red and glistening with sweat, come, and oil. He ran his right thumb over the sensitive skin just north of Ardyn’s hole and around the stretched rim of muscle, sending a powerful shiver up Ardyn’s spine. Gilgamesh let out a pleased hum at the sight as he affectionately stroked the point of their connection.

Ardyn’s next plea for more caught in his throat as Gilgamesh nestled his thumb inside of Ardyn, the fit impossibly tight even given Gilgamesh’s softening cock. Ardyn’s head dropped down and he released an extended moan, his mind swimming with the filthy image of Gilgamesh playing with him, stretching him further. Gilgamesh rubbed his thumb back and forth inside of Ardyn with little rhyme or reason, and while the sensation was not an unwelcome one, it wasn’t enough to bring Ardyn over the edge.

“Please, Gilgamesh,” Ardyn tried once more. “I need…” His voice trailed off as Gilgamesh slowly pulled out of him, though he left his thumb inside, a soft squelch hitting both their ears. A trail of Gilgamesh’s come dribbled out from Ardyn’s used hole, over his perineum and around his balls. Tenderly, Gilgamesh swirled his thumb around the stretched muscle then traced down the trail of come, smearing his finish all around Ardyn’s sensitive skin.

The next thing Ardyn knew he was on his back once more, Gilgamesh having flipped his pliant body easily. Gilgamesh hooked his arms around Ardyn’s thighs and pulled him down the bed as he crawled backwards, his feet finding the floor, then kneeling down onto it, Ardyn’s ass right at the edge of the bed. Ardyn didn’t need to question it as Gilgamesh’s mouth found the underside of his cock a moment later, lips and tongue worshipping his hardness in a flurry of wet sloppiness.

Gilgamesh worked him with a trained efficiency, determined to carry him over the edge and fast. Ardyn propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Gilgamesh dragged the flat of his tongue up the underside of his cock and, held it upright with his hand, wrapped his lips around the red and shiny tip. Ardyn hissed at the sight of Gilgamesh taking him down into his throat, his cheeks hollowing as Gilgamesh sucked. Ardyn began to pant, his orgasm building up suddenly. It was all he could do to reach down and grab a handful of Gilgamesh’s tussled hair, to hold him down around his cock, and encourage him to continue sucking and swirling his tongue like he could only assume the finest courtesans must. Gilgamesh looked up at him, his cheeks flushed from the exertion, sweat clinging to his forehead, a look of sheer commanding in his gaze.

Ardyn’s whole body was wracked with fervid, choked gasps as the tingling heat built up in his belly and crested all at once, his orgasm crashing over him. Gilgamesh sucked him through it, both hands now firmly holding Ardyn’s thighs down and open, his head bobbing and throat swallowing around the tip of Ardyn’s cock. His second orgasm was dry but earthshattering nonetheless, and Ardyn went completely boneless as Gilgamesh sucked him through the last of it.

When it was over Gilgamesh slid Ardyn’s softening cock out from between his lips and let it fall back against Ardyn’s stomach. Ardyn slumped back into the bedding, his chest rising and falling deeply as he fought to catch his breath. Vaguely, he knew that now that both of them had found their release, that this was the end of it. He would have to leave. Yet before he could peel his sweaty back from the sheets and slip away, Gilgamesh crawled back onto the bed and, hauling Ardyn up with him, moving away from the edge, then settled down, a heavy leg draped over Ardyn. Ardyn didn’t have the strength to push him away or stop him from kissing him, his previous desperate fervor replaced with an idle tenderness. Ultimately Ardyn let Gilgamesh kiss him, knowing all the while it was a mistake, but swore to himself it was their last. Ardyn watched Gilgamesh’s eyes flutter closed, his dark fan of lashes almost brushing against his cheeks they were so close. Ardyn pressed his lips back into Gilgamesh’s, reciprocating, but held his breath for what he knew would have to come next.

Dreamily, Gilgamesh pulled back, his eyes opening, a shy smile on his lips. “Ardyn,” he said softly, bringing a hand to push back a sweaty strand of hair from Ardyn’s forehead, but Ardyn pulled back slightly. He couldn’t get far, naturally, but his intent was clear. From the hurt on Gilgamesh’s face, Ardyn realized that Gilgamesh had hoped this would change things, that the final culmination after months of wanting and teasing would be enough to change Ardyn’s mind.

Ardyn pushed Gilgamesh’s arm off of his chest and sat up, then inched himself out from under Gilgamesh’s leg. He could feel Gilgamesh watching him all the while, but paid him no heed. Ardyn scooted down to the edge of the bed, feeling heavy and exhausted. The outside world seemed to filter in again, now that his heart wasn’t hammering in his ears. It was still pouring outside, the low rumble of thunder sounding here and there. Though he still had the cover of darkness to conceal his retreat back to his chambers, the fresh bruises and bite marks, not to mention the tattered state of his robes, were obvious indicators as to what conspired between them.

“Ardyn,” Gilgamesh called again, his tone a clear plea to stay.

Ardyn exhaled sharply. This was not at all how he wanted to end things, but he knew he had to make it clear where he stood.

He started with the bite mark on his shoulder.

Ardyn conjured the warm, healing magic to his hand and smoothed it over the indentations from Gilgamesh’s teeth until there was no trace of them left. Meticulously, Ardyn worked his hands over every last mark, erasing the evidence until he was back to his perfect pristineness. The room was dark, save for the warm glow from Ardyn’s fingertips and the odd flash of lightning. Gilgamesh was completely still all the while, his eyes boring holes into Ardyn’s back, though he said nothing in protest and made no move to stop Ardyn.

It was clear Ardyn’s answer was final.

With each love mark erased, now the only remaining evidence was the sorry state of his clothing. Ardyn could bathe himself back in the safety of his quarters, wash off the sweat and come, but the prospect of navigating through the estate’s corridors made his insides twist. Gilgamesh sat up behind him and got off of the bed, then padded over to one of the unmolested bureaus. He pulled out a plain dark robe and handed it to Ardyn. It was no real substitute; Ardyn would need to dispose of it once he made it back to his quarters, but it was enough to get him there.

Wordlessly, Ardyn accepted the robe and slipped it over his shoulders, pulling his arms through. He made to stand but pain rocketed up his spine from their exploit. Though he gritted his teeth to try and disguise it, Gilgamesh gave him a knowing, sympathetic look.

“You can stay a bit longer,” he said slowly, as if trying not to frighten off a skittish animal.

Ardyn wetted his lips, contemplating his options. He was tired and achy, that much was obvious, though he knew he couldn't give into the pull of sleep before bathing. Staying here longer with someone he so very much wanted to kiss and embrace was unwise. He could picture himself taking Gilgamesh up on his offer, on lying down and drifting off to sleep, and being discovered early the next morning as servants came to prepare Gilgamesh for the wedding. This betrayal of his station could never see the light of day.

So Ardyn shook his head ‘no.’

Wincing he pushed himself up and smoothed the robe down and around his body when he was upright, Gilgamesh just watching. He could feel the wetness leaking from his ass and dripping down his thigh, and gave thanks silently that Gilgamesh had afforded him a long robe to maintain what little decency he had left.

“So that’s it.”

Ardyn nodded−he didn't trust himself to speak.

“You’re not going to say anything.” It wasn’t a question, not quite an accusation, just an observation. This was how it ended. They had come crashing together months ago, thrown together against all odds, forced to work with one another, support one another. There were lies and mistruths between them, but the affection that had formed there was genuine, and the wanton passion had torn through Ardyn like a wildfire was undeniable. And _this_ was how it ended. Not with a black cloud of enemy arrows, not with the scourge claiming the Oracle’s life, not with a selfish and petulant God inserting themselves between them. A simple order snuffed their relationship out, just like that. What had started with a roar died with a whisper.

Ardyn raised his head high, as high as he could manage, summoning the Oracle’s cool resolve, and padded to the door. He pushed up the wooden slat, unbarring the door, and after pausing to listen for any footsteps outside, pushed it open a crack. Ardyn inhaled sharply and turned back finally to look at Gilgamesh one last time in this capacity, with a shred of warmth and affection. Perhaps it was a mistake, a final show of his own weakness, as he could feel his jaw begin to tremble and his brows pull together. He knew his voice would crack if he attempted to speak, so he offered a no doubt horrendous smile, incapable of wearing his mask of cool indifference any longer.

He was gone in a flash after that, the door shut quietly behind him, his nearly silent footfalls on the tiles the only sign to his escape. Ardyn covered his mouth with both hands as he ran, muffling the shuddering sobs that wracked through him with a vicious strength.

Ardyn regretted it all. Falling together, opening himself up, letting Gilgamesh in, allowing himself to be vulnerable, getting attached. He regretted his pettiness, his stubbornness—he regretted refusing Gilgamesh’s offer to carry on in the shadows. The sick, twisted pangs of regret ate at him as Arydn ran, vision nearly blinded by tears, the knowledge that he would think back to this night countless times in the future and _hate_ himself for doing this eating away at him like acid.

 _Things will be easier in the morning. Things will be better_.

But Ardyn knew his own assurances were lies. There was no saving himself from the self-hatred and despair he felt now. For all the power the Gods’ possessed, and he possessed through them, there was no going back and taking back his decision. This was a regret Ardyn would need to carry for the rest of his days.


End file.
